I woke up to the weight of someone sitting on me. Not heavy, but enough that my chest dipped slightly with each shift. My first thought was Duchess. Maybe she'd decided I made a better mattress than her cat bed again.
But then I opened my eyes.
And there she was.
Celestia Valentina Moreau, perched on top of me, straddling me like I was some kind of throne she'd claimed overnight. Her hair was loose, spilling forward around her shoulders in glossy waves, catching the morning light that leaked through the blinds. And her smile—bright, radiant, mischievous—hit me before my brain had even fully caught up.
"Morning, husband," she chimed, voice way too awake for how early it had to be. "You're awake now."
I blinked at her. Correction—trouble. That smile wasn't just happiness. That was her I'm plotting something smile.
So I closed my eyes again. "No."
If I pretended to be asleep, maybe she'd get bored.
Her gasp was instant, dramatic. "But you just opened them!"
Silence.
